Naruto had approximately twenty minutes to prepare himself for this eventuality.
It was not enough.
The school had called less than an hour ago. He dropped everything and ran, did not even bother changing out of his work uniform. The whole drive here he told himself it was fine, Boruto was fine, it was just a precaution. But when he finally saw his son alive, safe, unhurt, his chest nearly caved in with relief.
"Who else was with you?" he'd asked eventually.
Boruto hesitated. Just for a second.
"Sarada."
And that was all it took. The floor seemed to tilt under Naruto's feet. He did not hear anything Boruto said after that. Did not hear the rest of the explanation. Because if Sarada was here, if Sarada was injured, that meant...
Now he is back in the waiting room, trying and failing to breathe like a normal person. He tells himself he is ready. He tells himself seventeen years of silence have made him stronger, steadier, immune. He tells himself he can handle this.
The door swings open.
Sasuke enters, his expression tense, and his eyes sharp, and his gait quick and confident, and he looks so handsome, and mature, and grown-up, and Naruto is floored by how much he's missed the sight.
But then their eyes meet, and Sasuke freezes.
For a long, long moment, he just stands there, his black eyes wide and disbelieving, his body motionless.
And then the nurse walks in, and they both snap out of it.
"Are you here for Uchiha Sarada?" she asks, and Sasuke nods, and the spell is broken.
"Right this way, Mr. Uchiha."
Sasuke follows her, and Naruto stays behind, watching his former friend's retreating form, and wondering if there's any way this won't blow up in his face.
Probably not.
"Mr. Uzumaki?"
"Yes?"
"We want to keep Boruto for a couple more hours. We'd like to do some observation. Just as a precaution. You can stay here, if you want, or go home. Or you can come back in a couple of hours, to pick him up."
Naruto returns to the waiting room, sits down, and stares at the wall. It feels like every thought, every emotion, every regret of the past seventeen years has merged into a single, merciless weight pressing down on him, threatening to pull him under.
Leaving is not an option. He promised Hinata, and he will not let his family down, not like this, not again.
But staying means facing the man who still haunts his dreams, his nightmares, the very marrow of his existence. And that thought terrifies him.
What is the right response when confronted with the man whose heart you shattered, who vanished from your life without a word? Will Sasuke walk away again, or strike out, or act as if Naruto is nothing?
Naruto loses track of time in the spiral of fear and memory.
Then, suddenly, Sasuke is there.
He stands in the doorway, hands in his pockets, posture deceptively casual. His eyes are sharp, his jaw tight, and the air itself feels volatile, like the instant before a spark meets fuel.
All it will take is one breath, and the whole world will burn.
"Sasuke."
The other man's name slips out, and Naruto doesn't regret it, even though his tone is soft, and affectionate, and he knows, in this moment, that it gives him away.
But it's like, after seventeen years of being apart, his soul is screaming for his lover, and the syllables have been locked away, hidden behind his heart, and now, they're spilling out.
The sound of the name must trigger something in Sasuke, because his expression shifts.
It goes from carefully-guarded, to utterly devastated.
Like a dam bursting.
Black eyes that once held the calm of a frozen lake are suddenly ablaze, burning with rage and fear, anguish and despair. The force of it steals Naruto's breath.
He wants to ask him, why?
Why, after so many years, does the sight of him still hurt Sasuke so badly?
Naruto had spent seventeen years trying to forget him, trying to move on, trying to live a life. Was Sasuke just as incapable of letting go?
Did Sasuke also think about the other life they could have had, together?
"How's Sarada?" he finds himself asking, instead.
Sasuke flinches at the mention of his daughter's name, and the question, and the entire situation, is so messed up, and ridiculous, and insane, that Naruto would laugh, if he didn't feel like crying.
"She's alright," Sasuke finally says, voice carefully-monotone.
Naruto can't take his eyes off the other man. Can't look away. Doesn't dare.
"That's good."
"Yeah."
Silence, then.
"When are they releasing her?"
Sasuke's brow furrows. Naruto wonders what storm brews behind that unreadable gaze.
"Couple of hours. Look, Naruto, do we really need to do this? I'm here for my daughter, and you're here for your son. So can we just, not?"
Sasuke is talking in that tone, that cool, distant tone, and his expression is blank, and unreadable, and he seems completely unaffected, but Naruto knows him, and knows that he's anything but.
"Do what, Sasuke? Talk to each other?"
"Tch."
"I'm sorry," Naruto says, before he can stop himself.
"You're sorry?" Sasuke says, his voice hard, and flat, and emotionless.
Naruto swallows.
"Yeah."
"Fuck you."
The words are spoken calmly, and evenly, and it makes them all the more terrifying.
Naruto is reminded of a wounded animal, baring its fangs.
He wonders, idly, whether he's about to get mauled.
He knows he should probably shut up. Knows that it's a stupid idea, to provoke an already agitated Sasuke.
But, well, he's never been the most self-preserving guy.
"Sasuke, please. We can't just avoid each other forever."
"Yes, we can. It's worked so far, hasn't it?" Sasuke snaps.
"We can't," Naruto insists. "Our kids are together."
Sasuke's expression falters at that, and he glances away.
Naruto is reminded, again, that no one, not even the almighty Uchiha, can change fate.
"Look, Sasuke, can we just... sit down, and talk? Like adults?"
"Adults?" Sasuke says, his eyes flashing, and Naruto can tell he's hit a nerve. "Yeah, right. We were adults back then, too, and look how that turned out. What's the point, Naruto? Are we supposed to talk about the weather, or the kids, or how the years have changed us, or what? What do you want from me?"
His voice has lost some of the cool, detached quality, and the anger is spilling out.
Sasuke is angry.
No, Sasuke is furious.
Naruto is about to say something, anything, but before he can, a cough interrupts them.
A nurse is standing there, looking uncomfortable.
"Um, I need to ask you both to leave. You're causing a disturbance."
Sasuke's shoulders stiffen, and his jaw clenches, and the anger disappears, replaced by cold, detached composure.
"Right. I apologize," he says, his voice steady, and controlled. "Can I wait in my daughter's room?"
"I'm afraid not. She needs rest. Please return in a couple of hours, Mr. Uchiha."
The nurse leaves, and Naruto is suddenly hyper-aware of how close Sasuke is.
He's standing by the wall, arms folded across his chest, and there's a frown between his brows, and Naruto is overwhelmed with a sudden urge to touch him.
To reach out, and smooth the skin, and trace the features, and kiss the lips.
And, yeah, it's probably not a good idea.
"Let's go," Sasuke says, breaking the silence.
"What?"
"We're clearly not wanted here, and the staff will be relieved not to deal with our bullshit. So let's get out of here. Or do you have a problem with that, too?"
Naruto has a million problems with this.
But he nods, anyway.
-
Sasuke's mind is a whirlwind of chaos, and panic, and fear.
He'd just made sure that Sarada was okay ("Seriously, dad, I'm fine, stop hovering."), and that she had no further complications. The doctor assured him that the ankle sprain wasn't serious, and that she could be released within a few hours, but recommended that she rest at home, and not walk around for the next couple of days.
That part should have eased him. That part should have settled him.
But it does not. His thoughts spiral, restless and raw, because Naruto is following him out of the clinic, and the blond has no right to be there, but is still there, anyway, and the sight of him is doing weird things to his heart, and brain, and all the parts of him that are supposed to be logical.
He needs a drink, or five, or ten, but that's not an option, and so he heads outside, and tries to figure out how the fuck he ended up here, again.
Naruto looks at him with those impossible blue eyes, unfair in their honesty. Sasuke hates that he still wants to look back. He hates that Naruto is as hard to hate as he is easy to love.
"Are you hungry?" Naruto asks.
The question is ridiculous, stupid, painfully ordinary. So… Naruto. And it drags Sasuke, unwilling, into memory: a younger self stepping out of the library into the rain, and a steaming bowl of ramen placed in front of him. The realization, then, that he could never, ever, hate the idiot who offered it to him.
He wonders, sometimes, how things might have turned out, if he'd just told him, then, how much Naruto meant to him.
If he'd said the words, or showed him, or done something, instead of letting him slip away.
"Sasuke?"
Naruto's voice pulls him out of his thoughts.
"I'm not hungry," Sasuke mutters, his gaze shifting to the side.
"Well, the kids sure will be. Let's get them something."
"Tch."
Naruto starts walking, and Sasuke is annoyed at how his traitorous feet follow.
"I don't want to be anywhere near you," Sasuke says, when he catches up.
"You can't avoid me, Sasuke. I know that, and you know that."
"Watch me," Sasuke snorts, but he keeps walking, anyway.
They find a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant, and order a ridiculous amount of food, and then, because apparently today is a day of bad decisions, they sit down at a table.
"Why are we doing this?" Sasuke says, after a couple of minutes of uncomfortable silence.
"What, eating?"
"Tch."
Naruto sighs, and rubs his eyes.
"It's been seventeen years. I've thought about what I'd say to you, if we met, a thousand times, and I still don't know where to start."
"Don't worry, you're not missing much."
Naruto looks up, and their eyes meet, and Sasuke is surprised at the genuine hurt he sees in those blue eyes.
"I'm not going to lie and say I didn't miss you," Naruto says. "I did."
"Good for you," Sasuke says, dryly.
"Sasuke, c'mon."
"What do you want from me?" Sasuke growls.
"I don't want anything, but I need closure. Don't you?"
"No. There's nothing left to close."
"That's not true," Naruto says. "I hurt you, and we left things in a terrible place, and that's something I need to make peace with."
"Oh, so you want to make peace with yourself, huh? How fucking noble."
Sasuke feels the anger rising, hot and stupid. He knows he is lashing out, knows it makes no sense, but there is too much history, too much wreckage, and he cannot contain it. He thinks of Itachi, of calm words and rational choices, of being an adult.
But then Naruto's stupid mouth opens, and words start coming out, and all rationality goes out the window.
"How's... Sakura-chan?"
The words are quiet, hesitant, and the tone is tentative, and Sasuke wants to fucking murder him.
"Really? You're gonna ask me about her?"
"I just, I haven't seen her in so long, and—"
"Save it," Sasuke says, sharply. "You're not entitled to know shit about her, or anyone else in my life."
"Fine," Naruto sighs. "But you are, Sasuke. You're entitled to know shit about my life, if you want."
Sasuke's not an idiot. He's perfectly aware that the conversation is going off the rails, and that it's going to end in disaster, and that he should put a stop to it, right now, but his body seems to have developed a mind of its own, and he can't quite find it in himself to care.
"So? How's life treating you, Naruto?" he asks, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Are you happy?"
Naruto winces, and looks down.
"I'm trying to be," he finally says.
Sasuke is not expecting that response. He'd expected a defiant, loud, and confident affirmation. He'd expected arrogance, and self-righteousness, and the smug superiority of a man who's achieved all his dreams.
But that's not what he gets.
Instead, Naruto is sitting across from him, head hanging, and fingers tapping nervously on the table, and Sasuke is not prepared for the sadness he sees.
"And are you?" Naruto asks, before he can think of a response.
"Am I what?"
"Happy."
Sasuke doesn't know how to respond to that.
Because it's not an easy question.
Because he's been asking himself that, over, and over, and over, for the past seventeen years, and has never managed to come up with an answer.
Because he doesn't know what happiness means, and how much of it is in the circumstances, and how much is within oneself, and he doesn't know how much control he has over either, and whether the two are mutually exclusive, and what that even means, for someone like him.
"Sasuke?"
Naruto's voice sounds far-away.
"You don't get to ask me that," Sasuke says.
"You're right. I'm sorry."
Naruto has apologized a lot, in the short time since they've reunited, and Sasuke is getting annoyed.
"Stop fucking apologizing."
"Sorry."
Sasuke's mouth curves up, despite himself. He quickly turns his face away, not wanting Naruto to see the amusement.
"Are you smiling, bastard?"
"Tch."
They're interrupted, then, by the arrival of their food.
They eat in silence, and Sasuke is relieved at the lack of conversation, and the respite from the emotional landmines, and the tension, and the way his stomach keeps churning whenever Naruto speaks.
He hates himself, a little, for his reaction.
But Naruto was always the most unpredictable variable, in his carefully-planned, meticulously-structured life. Of course he'd chase after a falling star. Of course he'd try to hold onto it, even though he knew it would burn him.
"Sarada's a nice kid," Naruto says, and the sound of her name, spoken by that voice, is enough to send a sharp pang through Sasuke's heart.
"Yeah," Sasuke replies.
"She's smart, and kind, and determined. And she's good for Boruto."
Sasuke's eyebrows rise.
"You approve of your son dating my daughter?"
"Yeah, well, he needs a good influence," Naruto says, and Sasuke is a bit thrown-off by the compliment.
"He looks just like you," Sasuke says, his black eyes flickering towards the blond, briefly.
Naruto looks away.
"I know. People tell me that all the time. But he's also his own person, you know?"
"Mmm," Sasuke says, neutrally.
"He's braver than me. He isn't afraid to show his feelings. He isn't afraid of failing, or looking stupid, or disappointing others. He's just, so honest. So open. He wears his heart on his sleeve. It's... really inspiring, sometimes."
Sasuke frowns, at that.
Is Naruto, perhaps, trying to imply something?
But no, he can't be.
Can he?
"He's a good kid," Sasuke agrees, because the alternative would be to continue that train of thought, and he doesn't trust his mind to do the thinking right now.
"Thanks," Naruto says, and Sasuke feels a pang in his chest.
It's been seventeen years. Seventeen years since his friend walked out, and broke his heart, and shattered his hopes, and ruined him, and he shouldn't still feel this way, shouldn't be so affected by every single thing the other man does, shouldn't be so affected by his tone, or his mannerisms, or his words, or the look in his eyes.
Seventeen years, and, apparently, nothing has changed.
"Boruto said you were the head of the foster program," Sasuke says, hoping his tone comes across as nonchalant, and neutral.
"Yeah," Naruto says, his expression softening. "It's a small organization, but it's growing, and the kids have so much potential. It's great. They're all great. Even the ones who are... difficult. Even the ones who are a bit rough around the edges. They're all worth fighting for. You know?"
Naruto has always loved fighting, has always had a passion for protecting, and caring, and standing up for those who can't stand up for themselves.
And the fire in his eyes is the same fire that has always been there, and Sasuke is overwhelmed, suddenly, with memories.
Memories of his first friend, the boy who had the strength to look past his flaws, and accept him, and reach out, and pull him out of his shell, and help him rebuild himself.
The boy who'd believed, unwaveringly, in his goodness, and had refused to let him wallow in darkness.
His friend.
His best friend.
"Of course you're doing something like this," Sasuke mutters.
"Huh?"
"Nothing," Sasuke says, quickly.
They're quiet for a bit.
"And you're a bigshot lawyer now, huh?"
Sasuke wonders why the blond is bothering with these inane questions, and why the conversation is stretching out, and why neither of them are making any effort to end it.
"Something like that," Sasuke says, vaguely.
"That's great, Sasuke," Naruto says, and the sincerity in his voice is unmistakable. "It's... exactly what you wanted. Right?"
"Right," Sasuke says, his stomach churning.
"I'm glad. I'm happy for you."
"Tch."
Sasuke can't look at the blond.
He can't look, because, if he does, the other man will see his expression, and his emotions, and all the things he's hiding, and trying to forget, and pretending not to feel, and it's been seventeen years, and it's a lot harder than he thought it would be, to hide the fact that the only thing he's ever wanted is sitting across from him.
Naruto's phone rings, then, and Sasuke is grateful for the interruption.
"It's the hospital," the blond says, as he picks up the call. "Uh, yeah. I'm here, with him. What? Really? Oh. Okay, thanks."
Naruto hangs up, and Sasuke raises an eyebrow.
"Well, they want us back. Looks like our kids are ready to leave."
"Figures," Sasuke says.
"Yeah."
There's a moment of silence.
"Let's go, then."
-
Naruto doesn't know what the hell just happened.
One minute, he's sitting in a restaurant, staring at his ex-best-friend-turned-lover-turned-stranger, and the next, they're yelling at each other, and then, they're having a surprisingly-civilized conversation, and somehow, somewhere along the way, he finds himself enjoying the other man's company.
Again.
Because apparently, his body and his heart are masochists, and have no sense of self-preservation, and his mind and his soul have lost all semblance of common sense, and logic, and reason.
Sasuke, to his credit, is trying very hard to stay angry.
Trying, and failing.
There are flashes of annoyance, and irritation, and frustration, and even rage, but underneath that, Naruto can see a hint of the familiar.
Underneath the mask of indifference, and the cool composure, and the carefully-controlled expressions, and the sharp tongue, there is a hint of warmth.
A spark, flickering behind the darkness.
And maybe, maybe, that's all Naruto needs.
Just a tiny ember, proof that, somewhere, deep down, beneath the layers of ice and stone and hurt, Sasuke is still there.
He wonders, idly, how much would have to break, to uncover the heart of a volcano.
If the lava will burn him, when it flows.
When they step into the clinic, they are met with two pairs of bewildered eyes.
"Dad?" Sarada says. "Why were you, um, talking to Mr Uzumaki?"
She sounds worried, and a little panicked, and Naruto wonders if Sasuke'd given her any reason to worry about him.
He glances towards the man, and sees the way his expression shifts, the way the frown lines disappear, the way the black eyes soften, the way the whole mask falls, and Naruto has the sudden realization that he might not survive the afternoon, after all.
Because he's not prepared for this.
For a glimpse, even a brief one, of the man he'd fallen in love with.
For the realization, sinking into his bones, and settling, deep within, that he is, and has always been, helplessly, stupidly, ridiculously, irrevocably, in love with Uchiha Sasuke.
And there is still nothing he can do about it.
He catches Sarada's gaze, and notices the way her eyes are darting between him and Sasuke. Confusion morphs into comprehension, and her black eyes widen, and Naruto is reminded, suddenly, of the way Sasuke'd looked at him, all those years ago, on a night that was both ordinary, and extraordinary, on a night when they'd found each other, in more ways than one.
That is the look of someone realizing something big, and important, and profound, and Naruto is overwhelmed by panic, and fear, and a feeling of being exposed.
This isn't right.
Their kids shouldn't know.
He can't have Sarada, can't have her thinking Naruto is trying to stand between her father and mother.
He doesn't want to give her the impression that he's a threat.
That he's trying to take her place, or her parents' love.
That's not the kind of man he is.
That's not the kind of person he wants her to think he is.
"Boruto?" he calls out, his voice cracking a little.
"Huh?"
Boruto has clearly noticed the tension, and the weird vibes, and the awkward silence.
"Let's, um, let's go," Naruto says. "Home. Right now."
Boruto is smart, and quick, and catches the cue, and nods.
"Um, yeah, let's. See ya, Sarada. Bye, Mr Uchiha," the blond boy says.
"See you, Boruto," Sarada says, quietly, her voice a little strained.
"Bye," Naruto says, not meeting anyone's eyes.
He's almost at the door when a familiar voice calls out.
"Naruto."
Sasuke doesn't yell.
His tone is quiet, and even, and barely audible.
But Naruto has always had a talent for finding the things that are buried, deep within the darkness.
He looks back.
Their eyes meet, and the rest of the world seems to disappear.
"Take care," Sasuke says.
It's a simple, generic thing to say.
An empty, meaningless sentiment.
And yet, coming from the man who had wanted nothing to do with him, for the past seventeen years, the words are significant, and profound, and they sink, slowly, into Naruto's bones.
He swallows.
"Yeah. You, too," he finally manages.
Sasuke looks away.
Naruto does the same, and steps out, and walks away.
Sasuke watches, numb, as Naruto and Boruto disappear down the hall. Their footsteps echo for a moment, then fade, leaving the waiting room heavy with silence.
He barely registers his daughter's voice until she says his name again, sharper this time. He answers automatically, out of habit, though his mind is still tangled around the man he has just sat across from.
The man who can still throw him off balance without even trying.
He exhales, long and unsteady, but the breath does nothing to clear the weight pressing on his chest. He does not know what just happened. He does not know what it means. All he knows is the image burned into his mind: Naruto older, steadier, worn at the edges. That sight leaves him restless, stripped bare, as if some part of himself has been dragged out into the open against his will.
But then he turns toward Sarada.
She is staring at him with her eyes wide and her mouth slightly open, caught between disbelief and confusion. Her bewilderment is so clear, so painfully familiar, that a knot forms in his throat. He realizes, with a cold sinking in his chest, that the situation has gone from bad to worse.
"Let's go home, Sarada," he says quietly.
She nods at once, but there is something in the way she stares at him that makes him wonder if the damage has already been done.
He helps her to the car, fastens her seatbelt. A thousand questions burn in the back of his throat, but he swallows them. He cannot open this conversation. Not yet.
In the driver's seat, hands wrapped around the wheel, Sasuke's composure frays. He tries, desperately, to invent an explanation that might account for what his daughter just saw, some story that would smooth the edges, make sense of whatever she glimpsed between him and Naruto.
What had his face looked like when he spoke to him?
How much had slipped through in his expression?
Had his posture betrayed him? His tone? His silence?
His head begins to ache.
A headache throbs at his temples. He starts the car, the engine filling the quiet, but still he cannot bring himself to shift gears. The thought of going home makes his chest tighten. The thought of facing Sarada's questions is worse.
And yet, beneath the fear of lying, there is another fear. The fear of not lying. Of speaking the truth at last.
He glances at the rearview mirror. Sarada's reflection meets his eyes, dark and unblinking, sharp in the way his own once was. It is a gaze that demands honesty, and it has become his weakness.
He is not a liar.
Sasuke has always kept his secrets close. For a long time, he was not able to trust anyone, not with the truth, and not with the parts of him that mattered most. Even the people he loved, the few there were, he protected by keeping them at arm's length. He had thought, at the time, that this was the only way he could survive.
But with Sarada, the rules are different. She deserves more than fragments. She deserves more than shadows.
So instead of heading home, Sasuke turns the wheel. The car veers onto a road that curves out of town, over a bridge, and into the quiet stretch of trees that cradle the park. Sarada's favorite place.
In spring, cherry blossoms blanket the air. In autumn, fire-colored leaves scatter across the water. In winter, ice hardens over the lake and the whole place transforms into glass and silence.
Now it is late afternoon, a few minutes before sunset. The clouds are heavy, tinged pink by the fading light, and the water mirrors the sky. Sasuke parks, helps Sarada out of the car, and they walk to the lake's edge in silence.
She does not ask why they are here. She already knows.
Sasuke has no idea how to begin, though.
He has tried, in his mind, a thousand times, a thousand ways, but the story has never come out right. It has always felt disjointed and incomplete, a collection of moments without a connecting thread.
But now, in the quiet and the golden light, the words seem to come to him, like an offering.
He is not sure how much to say, how far back he should go. But he is not afraid anymore, either. It is almost like a relief, as if his life, all these years, has been a knot, and the thread is finally unraveling.
"We met in college," he says, softly.
Sarada turns to look at him, her expression a mixture of surprise and curiosity.
"You mean Mr Uzumaki," she says.
"Yes."
Sasuke looks down, and his reflection stares back, dark and uncertain.
"We were assigned the same dorm room. God, the amount of yelling that happened, the first week. We just couldn't stand each other. At first, I mean."
He pauses, and waits, half-expecting her to ask why.
She does not, though, and he is grateful.
"We fought about everything. How messy the room was. When I got home late. Whether ramen was a valid food source. Whether a single sock should count as dirty laundry. What the best kind of cereal was. How loud my music was. Which side of the room was better."
"And then?" she asks, softly.
"And then, somehow, we became friends. Maybe it was because we were always arguing, and we never had a moment of silence. Maybe it was because he was the first person who was completely honest with me. Maybe it was because... he made me laugh. And feel. More than I had, in a very long time."
He is surprised, when he hears his own voice.
He has not spoken of that time, has not even allowed himself to think of it, not in any depth, not in years.
Now, the memories are coming back.
The feeling, the joy, the wonder, the terror.
"I... was not an easy person to be friends with, Sarada. I was stubborn, and closed-off, and secretive, and cold. And I didn't really let anyone get close."
"You don't let anyone get close, still, Dad," Sarada replies, with a wry smile.
"You're right," Sasuke says.
A sigh, a pause.
"Your mom and I, we weren't together, at the time. We were just, casual. Uh, friends, with benefits, I guess. Though, we never had a conversation about it. It was... kind of a mutual understanding."
He looks at Sarada, carefully.
"Chill, Dad, I'm not a kid. I know what that means."
"Right."
Of course she does.
"There was this girl, following Naruto around, like a lost puppy. She was sweet, and innocent, and... kind, I guess. She'd do anything for him. Anything. She loved him. So, so much. And he..."
Sasuke trails off, and the silence stretches.
"He what?" Sarada asks.
"They started dating," Sasuke says, his voice a little stiff, and a little rough.
"Oh."
"Yeah."
Another pause.
"It was hard. For me, I mean. To see them, together. But, I knew. I knew he liked her. I could tell. Though, looking back, it was probably more of a... reaction, than anything else. She was the first person who ever showed interest in him. Who gave him attention, and affection. And, maybe, because of that, he was afraid of losing her. Afraid that if he didn't respond, the feeling would go away."
He takes a deep breath.
"We still hung out, though. He was... always there. Always, in my life. Even when I didn't want him. He was just, there. Like a fucking sunbeam. Refusing to leave, refusing to go away. Always shining, and bright, and warm, and—"
He stops, abruptly, his breath catching, his throat tight.
The pressure builds behind his eyes, sharp and unyielding, until it almost spills over. He hates how close it feels, how raw, how exposed. Years spent building walls and stacking stones around his heart, years spent pretending that he was untouched. And yet Naruto had always been good at breaking things.
"Dad," Sarada says. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Sasuke mutters.
He takes a few seconds, composes himself.
"Then what happened?"
"We shared that dorm room for three years. By the end, I was sure... I was sure he was it. I—"
The words choke up, and the rest comes out in a whisper.
"I was so in love with him, it wasn't even funny."
The truth lies there, heavy in the air, undeniable.
For the first time in years, Sasuke feels fear in his bones. The kind that crawls under the skin and takes root. Fear that his daughter will look at him differently. Fear that she will pull away. Fear that she will be disgusted. Fear that she will never forgive him for the man he was and the boy he loved.
Sasuke waits, and the seconds stretch.
The silence stretches. He waits, holding his breath, every second an eternity. He wonders if everything he has built with her is about to crumble, if he has just torn it down with a single admission.
When he finally dares a glance, her eyes are still on him. They are steady, unflinching, and there is no horror in them. No disgust. Only a patient, quiet curiosity. Her voice, when it comes, is soft, almost gentle.
"And what did you do?"
Sasuke lowers his gaze to the water. The reflection of the clouds blurs, breaking apart with each ripple. He swallows.
"I didn't do anything. I didn't dare. He had Hinata, and I knew... I knew he could never, ever love me the way I loved him."
He pauses. His hands curl loosely on his knees. The air feels close, pressing in.
"But after graduation... on our last night in the dorms, we went out drinking, for old time's sake. And when we came back..." He breathes out, slow and uneven. "We were drunk. Laughing. Everything that had been locked up for years just... slipped loose."
His hands tighten on his knees.
"He kissed me first. And I kissed him back. We couldn't seem to stop. One thing led to another, and we crossed a line we could never uncross."
The admission settles over them, final and irreversible. The sound of the water lapping at the shore seems louder in the silence that follows.
"And that was the biggest mistake of my life."
Sarada is quiet, waiting for him to go on.
"He'd promised me. That night. He'd promised me, that he'd break up with Hinata and be with me. Be mine, for real. For as long as I wanted. He promised."
"But he didn't," Sarada says, quietly.
"No."
There is a sudden breeze, and a low rumble. The smell of rain is in the air, and the sky is heavy, and the first drops fall, and the two Uchiha stare at the clouds.
"Turns out, when he went to speak with Hinata, she had news for him, too. She was pregnant."
Sarada gasps.
"With Boruto?"
"With Boruto."
"Oh my god."
"Yeah."
Sasuke turns to look at his daughter, and a wave of gratitude swells inside him, overwhelming. She has always had her mother's warmth, and compassion, but there is a steel in her, a strength that is all him. He loves her for it. Loves her for being his, and hers, and theirs.
"Naruto grew up as an orphan. The last thing he would have ever wanted was to do the same thing to his own child. So, he decided. He was going to be a father. He was going to be a partner. He was going to have a family."
"But... what about you, Dad?"
"I told him I never wanted to see him again."
Sarada's eyes widen, and the question hangs between them.
What if?
The sound of the rain fills the silence, and Sasuke watches it, his hands curled into fists. He has lived a long life. One filled with mistakes. One filled with pain. He has had a lot of regrets. Many of which he has accepted, and moved on from. But this, the choice he made, seventeen years ago, and the life that followed, are not things he will ever let go of.
"Dad," Sarada calls, and her voice is soft.
"I don't regret it, Sarada. I don't regret you, not for a second. I don't regret the path I took. Because everything I've had, and everything I've done, it led me to you. I wouldn't change a thing, not if it meant losing you."
The words hang between them, and the meaning settles, and the feeling sinks in.
Tears and raindrops spill over, and drip down her cheeks.
Sasuke wipes them away, gently.
"But you still love him, don't you?"
It's not a question, and they both know it.
"I don't have the luxury of being a coward anymore, Sarada," Sasuke whispers. "I have you to think about. I have a responsibility. And, if you're going to be with Boruto, I have to learn how to be civil, and nice, and polite, and whatever the fuck else Naruto wants."
"You didn't answer my question, Dad."
"Of course I love him," he says.
And this, finally, is the truth.
-
That night, the sky splits open, and the rain falls, heavy and unyielding, a sheet of gray against the darkened windows. Sasuke stares at it, his face pressed against the glass, and it seems endless.
In the distance, lightning flashes, a bright streak of white, followed by the deep rumble of thunder. He has always liked storms. The power, the chaos, the beauty. The way it reminds him of who he is, and how insignificant he is, compared to the vastness and the cruelty of the world.
Tonight, the storm seems different, though.
He can hear his daughter moving about in the room across from his. There is the soft click of the light switch, and then the floorboards creak under her feet. After a few moments, the noises stop, and Sasuke knows she has settled in bed.
He turns around, and heads downstairs, the floor creaking under his weight, and the sound of the rain growing louder.
His phone rests on the coffee table, the screen flashing with notifications, most of them from Itachi, asking how things are going.
Sasuke ignores them, and stares at the screen.
He'd made many mistakes throughout his life.
Most, he could live with.
One, he could not.
And, tonight, with the rain pounding the ground outside, and the wind whipping the trees, and the storm raging, deep within, he can no longer hide from it.
He presses the dial button, and waits, his heart pounding in his chest, each beat a reminder.
It takes two rings, and then the call connects.
"Sasuke?"
Sakura's voice is soft and surprised, and a little muffled. She is probably in bed.
"It's me," Sasuke replies.
A pause, a silence, a beat.
"Is everything okay? Is Sarada okay?"
He'd texted her about the accident, earlier in the day, when Sarada was getting examined.
"She's fine. Doctor said she'll be up and walking in a week."
"Good," Sakura says, with a sigh of relief. "Good."
The silence grows.
He doesn't know how to begin.
He doesn't even know what to say.
"I'm sorry," Sasuke says, quietly.
"Huh? What for?"
"Everything."
A tear, hot and unexpected, trickles down his cheek. He does not wipe it away. He does not move. He barely even breathes.
"Sasuke," she whispers. "What's wrong?"
"Everything. I'm... I'm so sorry, Sakura."
He chokes, a sob, a breath.
"You deserved better than me. You always did."
The words seem to shatter the night.
The storm rages, and the rain falls, and Sasuke breaks.
"You deserved the world, and all I gave you was... half of me. You were the mother of my child. My best friend. My partner. The one person I thought I could always rely on. And yet, I never gave you enough. I never showed you enough. You deserve so much better, Sakura. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
The apology echoes through the darkness, and the night, and the empty room.
On the other end, there is only silence.
Sasuke's heartbeat quickens, and panic rises. He is suddenly afraid that she might hang up. Afraid that she has finally, had enough. Afraid that he has pushed her too far, and lost her forever.
"Sakura," he calls.
"I'm still here, Sasuke," she says.
He swallows, and his throat is thick.
"I don't know why I'm calling you. I don't know what I want. I just... needed to say it. Needed you to know. Even though I know it doesn't make up for all the times I failed. For all the ways I hurt you. For all the years we spent together, and didn't work. And all the years after, where I couldn't admit it, even to myself. I'm sorry. And, thank you. Thank you for loving me, even when I didn't deserve it. Even when I was cold, and closed-off, and distant, and couldn't love you back."
A silence.
"It's not like I didn't know, Sasuke," Sakura says, finally. "I just chose to be with you anyway."
"Why?" he asks, softly.
"Because you were worth it," she replies. "Because I loved you. Because you gave me Sarada."
Sasuke sighs.
He thinks of his daughter, and how much she has given him, and how much he has had to learn from her.
"Do you remember the day she was born?"
"Of course," Sasuke says, without hesitation.
"I'll never forget the look on your face, when you held her for the first time. The way your eyes changed, the way they lit up. And the smile, the smile on your face. I'd never seen you smile like that, before."
"You're right," he whispers.
"She gave me so much," Sakura says. "I wouldn't trade her, or our time together, for anything. Even when you weren't around, and spent all those years travelling for work, she was all I had. And I was happy. Happy to have her, happy to have that piece of you. I wouldn't give that up, Sasuke. Not for anything."
"I know," he says, and the memory stings, a little. "But I realized that I never apologized to you, not properly. If I had, I would have had to confront the real reason my heart wasn't in it, and I was never brave enough. I was a coward. I was a selfish, self-absorbed, coward. And I'm sorry."
They are both crying, now.
Sasuke can tell.
"I told her, today," he says. "About us. About Naruto."
"What?" Sakura asks, in surprise. "Why? How did she take it?"
"I... I don't know. Good? She didn't seem too bothered. She'd figured it out, more or less, I think. When she saw us interacting at the clinic, it seemed to click."
"Oh," Sakura says, softly. "You seem to have come a long way, since the last time we spoke."
Sasuke remembers Itachi naming his faults, his flaws, his fears, calling him a a coward, a man who ran from his own heart. He remembers the way his daughter looked at him earlier that day. And for the first time, the weight loosens, the guilt thins, the regret drifts like smoke.
"It was about time, I guess."
"I'm glad, Sasuke," Sakura says, warmly. "I really am."
A silence, a pause, and the rain falls, and the storm roars, and they breathe, together.
"Sakura," Sasuke calls.
"Yes?"
"Can we... talk? Like this, every once in a while? Not just about Sarada. Not just because we're co-parents. Just, talk. About things. Anything. Everything. I'd... like to get to know you again. You were a big part of my life, and I don't want that to end."
There is a moment, and then she responds.
"I'd like that, Sasuke," she says. "I'd like that very much."
-
Naruto stays up late, and watches the rain fall.
There is something soothing, in the rhythmic sound. Something comforting, and peaceful. He is a little surprised, that the storm had come so suddenly, and without warning. Like someone unexpected appearing in the doorway, and sweeping the wind in.
The weather report had called for scattered showers.
It had not prepared him for the onslaught.
His eyes linger on the sky. Heavy clouds tumble across it, swollen with water and weight. The air is thick, sweet, charged. Lightning flares in the distance, and a long roll of thunder follows, low and steady, like the growl of something vast and ancient. Rain pelts the windows, the roof, the ground. A torrent. An assault.
Just like him.
A force of nature, and a storm that swept through.
A presence that was not asked for, and yet impossible to ignore.
Naruto closes his eyes. His mind replays the afternoon in broken fragments. Sasuke's eyes, black and burning. The sharpness in his words. The devastation etched across his face. Yet, beneath all that fury, Naruto thinks he glimpsed something else. Something quieter. Something that looked like exhaustion, or regret. As if the anger had not only been meant for Naruto, but for Sasuke himself.
Naruto leans his forehead against the window, the glass cool against his skin. The rain blurs the world outside, softening the harsh lines of the street lamps, the rooftops, the trees. Everything is hazy, uncertain, indistinct. It matches the way he feels inside.
He wonders if Sasuke is awake right now, staring out another window across the city. He wonders if the storm has reached him too, if he can hear the same thunder rolling across the sky. He wonders if Sasuke feels the same pull he does, that strange, aching tether that no distance or time has ever managed to sever.
Naruto exhales slowly. His breath fogs the glass, leaving a brief imprint before fading. Just like everything else he touches. Just like every attempt he has ever made to move forward.
It had been torture, pushing Sasuke to calm down, to talk, to put aside the sharp edges of his anger for the sake of their kids. Torture, because Naruto had to act steady while every part of him was breaking apart. Torture, because every second felt like standing barefoot on glass, pretending it did not hurt. And still, he had done it. Because Boruto deserved it. Because Sarada deserved it.
Because Sasuke deserved it.
And then there was that moment, just before they left. The way Sarada had looked at him. Wide-eyed, sharp, too sharp for a child. She had seen something she was not supposed to see. The way he looked at Sasuke, the way he always had, with an unquenchable thirst, and an undying fire.
Naruto presses his hand against the fogged glass, watching the outline of his palm fade as quickly as it had appeared. Sarada had recognized it. He was sure of it.
It is only a matter of time. A matter of time before she asks her father. A matter of time before she talks to Boruto. And if she does, if she puts it into words, if she names it, then the secret will not be his anymore. Then the past will no longer be the past, but the present.
And then.
What?
Naruto is not sure.
All he knows is that, no matter how many years have passed, no matter how hard he tries, no matter what he does, Sasuke will always be the one thing he cannot have.
It doesn't take long.
On Tuesday, after his shift, Naruto makes his way home, exhausted. The day had been long, and busy, with two toddlers getting adopted and a newborn coming in. There had been more tears and paperwork and endless waiting than he had signed up for. By the time his feet touch the sidewalk in front of his building, all he wants is a hot shower and some ramen.
"Hey, Dad."
Boruto's voice is unexpected, and so is his appearance. He is leaning against the door, arms crossed, his blue eyes watching his father.
Naruto blinks, slowing to a stop at the bottom of the steps. Boruto should not be here, waiting outside like this. Something about the way he is standing is wrong. Too stiff. Too deliberate.
"Hey," Naruto says, forcing a casual tone as he climbs the stairs. But the moment he sees his son's expression up close, his body tenses. There is a twitch in Boruto's jaw, and a weight in his eyes that makes Naruto's stomach knot. "Where are your mom and Himawari?"
"They're out," Boruto says, flatly. "Shopping for school clothes for Hima."
The answer lands with a strange finality, as though Boruto had made sure they would not be here for this conversation. Naruto's heart gives a small, uneasy lurch.
"Is everything okay?"
The single word is heavy, and hard, and final.
"What's wrong?" Naruto asks, trying to keep his voice steady even as dread pools in his chest. His eyes flick across Boruto's posture, his expression, searching for clues. Something is coming. He can feel it, rising like a wave just about to break.
"I need to ask you something," Boruto says. "And you need to tell me the truth."
His eyes are sharp, piercing, too old for his age. Naruto feels his heartbeat quicken.
"Yeah. Okay," he says, cautiously. "Shoot."
"Did you cheat on Mom with Sarada's dad?"
The world seems to tilt. Naruto's breath catches, and for a moment all he hears is the sound of his own pulse in his ears.
He wants to laugh it off, but the humor dies before it can form. He wants to be angry, but his chest feels too hollow for that. Instead, unease slithers through him, cold and suffocating. How much does Boruto know? What has he seen? What has Sarada told him?
Naruto swallows, his throat dry. Of all the questions his son could have asked, it had to be this. A question sharp enough to cut straight through years of silence, through carefully buried memories, through the fragile peace he had built around himself.
"Boruto—"
"Did you?"
The question rings between them.
Naruto looks away, his hands curling into fists. He has no choice. The only way out is the truth. He is not strong enough to lie to Boruto, and his son would know it. He owes him that, at least.
"Yes."
Boruto sucks in a sharp breath. His eyes are wide, disbelieving.
"So Sarada was right," he whispers.
Naruto stares at the ground, his pulse thudding painfully. He is suddenly afraid of what Boruto might ask next. He is suddenly terrified of what his son might think of him.
"Dad," Boruto calls, and his voice is quiet. "Tell me everything."
So, he does.
Naruto tells his son about the past. About the boy he used to be, and the person he was before he became a father. About his relationship with Hinata, and his friendship with Sasuke. About the way things had changed. The way he had changed.
About that night.
About that choice.
Boruto is quiet throughout, his face unreadable. Naruto does not dare to look at him, and the words are difficult to get out, but somehow, he manages. He is not sure how. It is as if something is opening inside him, a floodgate releasing a tidal wave of emotion, memories, feelings.
It has been a long, long time since he has allowed himself to think about it. To remember the details. The taste. The feel.
But when he gets to the end of the story, the part where he went to break up with Hinata, the words falter.
Because, how do you tell your son that the only reason you stayed, was because his mother got pregnant with him? How do you tell him that, if not for the baby growing in her belly, you would have walked out, and chose the person you truly loved, instead?
You don't.
You can't.
Not when the result is standing right in front of you, asking questions you can no longer avoid.
Naruto closes his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest. The words won't come. But maybe they don't have to. Maybe his silence is the loudest answer of all.
"You're not finished," Boruto says. His voice is soft, and low, and dangerous. "There's more. Tell me the rest."
"Boruto," Naruto says.
"Tell me," his son insists. "Tell me, Dad."
Naruto inhales, a sharp breath that feels like broken glass. His hands are trembling.
"I would have chosen him," he whispers, finally. "I would have chosen him, if not for you."
Boruto is silent, and the world is still.
And then, he speaks.
"So, it's my fault," he says. His voice is a whisper, but the words cut straight to the bone. "If I wasn't born, you wouldn't have had to stay with Mom. You wouldn't have had to lie to her. She wouldn't have had to live a lie. And you and Sarada's dad, you would have... been together."
"Boruto," Naruto begins. "It's not—"
"Yes, it is!" his son yells, his voice suddenly thick with anger. "That's what you're saying, right? That's what you're telling me. That if I wasn't here, you'd be happy."
Naruto feels the bile rising, hot and acidic, in his throat. His chest tightens. This is exactly what he had feared, from the beginning. His son's reaction, his disappointment, his judgment. He wants to say no, but the denial feels hollow.
"I am so grateful for you, and Himawari," Naruto says, struggling to keep his voice steady. "You are the best things that have ever happened to me."
Boruto does not seem moved by this, his face cold and expressionless.
"Why didn't you just leave, then?" he asks, flatly. "Why didn't you just break up with Mom, if that's how you really felt? Why did you make us a family? Why did you keep lying? Why did you marry her, when you didn't love her?"
"It wasn't like that. I loved your mom."
"Not the way you loved Sarada's dad."
"No," Naruto admits, after a pause. "Not the same way."
"So, why did you stay?"
Naruto sighs. There is no escape. He is cornered. Trapped.
"I couldn't leave my family. I couldn't leave your mom. I couldn't abandon her. And you. And it's not like your mom and I didn't get along. We did. She is a wonderful woman. I did care about her. I did love her, in a way. Just, not the way I was supposed to."
Boruto does not respond.
Naruto's heart is a lump in his chest.
"I know, I messed up," he says, softly. "But I did the best I could. I tried, Boruto. I really did. I tried to be a good husband. A good father. I'm not perfect. But I've done everything I could for you and your sister. Please believe that."
The silence drags on.
And on.
"Does she know?" Boruto asks, finally. "Does Mom know, about you and Sarada's dad? Did you ever tell her the truth?"
"Yes," Naruto says, quietly.
"How did she take it?"
"She forgave me."
"That's it? That's all?"
Naruto thinks of the months of sleepless nights, of the tear-stained pillows, the pain and the fear, the uncertainty, the desperation.
"I didn't deserve her forgiveness," he says, a little hoarsely. "I don't know how she did it. She is the kindest person I've ever met. The most loving, most understanding, most selfless woman. I'm not sure anyone else could have done it. Could have forgiven me. Could have given me another chance. Even now, I don't understand how she did it. It's something I'll never stop being grateful for."
Boruto looks away, and his shoulders slump. He seems to be fighting back tears.
"Boruto," Naruto says. "Say something. Please."
The plea hangs in the air.
"I hate you," his son says, quietly. "I hate you, Dad. For making her do that. For putting her through all that. I hate you for not having the courage to do the right thing, and just leave."
Naruto feels his heart twist. He knows it is deserved. He knows his son is justified in feeling this way. He also knows that, for his son, the world is still a place full of right and wrong, of black and white, good and bad. He does not see the shades of grey, the complexities, the contradictions.
Not yet.
"I'm sorry, Boruto," he says. "For disappointing you. I'm so, so sorry."
His son takes a deep breath.
"I hate you for all that, but I hate you more for still not doing a single fucking thing about it."
Naruto would normally scold him for his language, but there is no energy left. The fight is gone. Everything is gone.
"If you'd taken the chance, Dad, you'd be happier," Boruto says, and his voice is shaking. "You're stupid if you think me and Hima would rather have married parents than happy ones. Do you think I don't know that Mom's been going out on dates, lately? She's smiling more. She seems more... alive. And you? What the fuck are you doing, Dad? Working yourself to death, coming home late, leaving early, missing meals. You barely have any friends, you're not dating, you don't talk about anything, or hang out, or anything. What is it? What are you so afraid of? Do you want to be miserable forever?"
Naruto can only stare at the ground.
"Do you really hate yourself that much?"
His son's words land like blows, each one a deeper cut. Naruto cannot think. Cannot speak. All he can do is feel, and the feeling is overwhelming. He wants to sink through the earth. He wants to vanish into nothingness. He wants to disappear, to stop existing, to never have existed, to have made a different choice.
A silence.
"Why don't you fight for him?"
The question is like an echo, bouncing through Naruto's bones.
"What?"
"Why don't you fight for him?"
"He's married! Of course, I'm not going to fight for him. What do you want me to do, steal him from his wife?"
Boruto blinks, as if Naruto is a particularly dense child.
"What the hell are you talking about, Dad?"
"You know what I'm talking about," Naruto growls, his face flushing. "It's not a question of stealing him from his wife, or making him choose between us. He's married, and happy, and that's that."
"He's divorced, you moron."
The words are like a punch.
Naruto stares at his son, his thoughts stuttering.
"What?"
"He's divorced," Boruto repeats, slowly, enunciating every syllable. "Didn't you know?"
Naruto can't seem to breathe.
"Divorced?" he repeats, stupidly.
"God, Dad, do you listen at all?"
"He's— he's—"
"Single, Dad. He's single."
Naruto tries to think. It is impossible. The thought won't stick. The word keeps falling apart.
"Divorced," he says again.
"Yes, Dad," Boruto says. His voice is flat. "Apparently they split when Sarada was eight, but they stayed friends."
"Friends," Naruto says, blankly.
"Yes. Friends."
Naruto's brain feels numb.
"Why are you looking like that?" Boruto demands. "God, I can't deal with this anymore. Go figure out what you want. You're driving me insane."
His son turns away, and storms inside.
Naruto is still standing in the street.
Sasuke is divorced.
He is single.
Sasuke is single.
-
Naruto does what he'd stopped himself from doing for nearly two decades.
He googles Sasuke's name.
It is a strange feeling, typing those words into the search bar. It feels surreal. Almost as if he is watching someone else's fingers on the keyboard.
The internet is a flood of information. Sasuke's name appears, over and over. Cases, court decisions, newspaper articles, awards, recognitions. His law firm has an entire section devoted to him. His biography is on the site. He is listed as one of the top five criminal defense lawyers in the country.
Naruto's eyes flick through the text, picking up bits and pieces, skimming past the details. The years pass. There are cases, and awards, and achievements. The names of colleagues, partners, other lawyers. There are photos, a headshot, and some taken at events.
Naruto recognizes the law firm. He has passed by the building many times. He has walked down the street where it is located, and seen the gleaming, imposing entrance. He has never been inside, of course, but the address is familiar, and so is the name.
It's downtown, in a high-rise, near the courthouse.
It is only a few subway stops away.
-
He stands across the street, staring at the entrance.
The building is tall and imposing, all sharp lines and sleek surfaces, gleaming in the sunlight. He has to admit, it looks impressive. He wonders what it's like, inside. How many people work there? What does it look like, with its open spaces and modern furniture, the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city? He imagines the reception, the hallways, the offices. He imagines walking in, being led upstairs. Knocking on a door.
What would happen, then?
What would he say?
Naruto takes a deep breath. The air is cool and fresh, and there is a smell of spring. He should turn around, walk away. He should forget the entire thing. There is nothing for him, here. Nothing except regret, and a future that would never be.
He should go home, and put this out of his mind, once and for all.
Instead, he crosses the street.
The glass doors slide open, and he walks in. The lobby is huge, and airy, with marble floors and a sleek reception desk. He feels a little awkward, and out of place. The people working here are smartly dressed, and efficient, and busy. They belong here. He does not.
"Excuse me," he says, and the young man at the front looks up. "I'm looking for Uchiha Sasuke."
"Do you have an appointment?"
"No," Naruto says, sheepishly. "Is there a way I can leave a message?"
"Are you a client of Mr. Uchiha's?"
"Uh, yeah. Something like that."
The receptionist raises an eyebrow, and Naruto flushes. He knows how suspicious it sounds.
"I do not have access to Mr. Uchiha's schedule," the receptionist says, coldly. "Best I can do is call his assistant."
"Thanks," Naruto says.
"Wait here," the receptionist tells him. He picks up the phone, and presses a button.
Naruto waits.
It is a strange sensation, being inside the office. Everything is polished and sleek, and he feels very out of place, in his worn jeans and old shirt. The receptionist is eyeing him suspiciously, and he fidgets under the gaze.
"What's your name?" the receptionist asks.
"Naruto," he replies, without thinking.
"Last name?"
"Oh," Naruto says. He hesitates, for a fraction of a second. And then, "Uzumaki."
"Hold on."
The receptionist is on the phone, talking quietly. Naruto tries not to fidget. A few minutes pass, and then, a voice behind him.
"Mr. Uzumaki?"
Naruto spins around.
A woman with bright red hair and a serious expression is standing there, studying him. She looks him up and down, and he knows exactly what she is seeing. Old jeans, worn sneakers, faded t-shirt. It's not that Naruto couldn't afford better, but he'd never felt the need, especially working around underprivileged children and families.
"Yeah," he says.
"My name is Karin," the woman says. "Mr. Uchiha's assistant."
"Nice to meet you," Naruto says.
Karin is looking at him, and then the receptionist, and back again. There is something about the way her eyebrows are slightly raised, and her eyes are narrowed, as though she is trying to place him. As though she is trying to remember something.
"I'm afraid Mr. Uchiha is out of the office today," Karin says, after a moment.
Naruto's heart sinks.
"Okay," he says, trying not to sound too disappointed.
"But," she says. "I'll make you a coffee. We can sit, and chat."
Her tone is light, but her eyes are hard, and focused.
"Uh, okay," Naruto says. "Thanks."
He follows her through the lobby, and down a hallway. The floors are spotless, and the lights are bright. Karin opens a door, and leads him inside. The room is spacious and comfortable, with a long table and a few armchairs, a small kitchenette tucked away in one corner.
"Have a seat," she tells him. "Cream, sugar?"
"Both," Naruto says, settling into one of the chairs. He feels out of place, and nervous. "Thank you."
"No problem," Karin says, with a smile.
She makes a cup of coffee, and hands it to him, before settling in the chair opposite him. She studies him, a long, appraising look.
"So, what can I do for you?" she asks.
"Well, um, actually, I was hoping to talk to Sas— uh, Mr. Uchiha," Naruto says, sheepishly.
He doesn't miss the way her eyebrows rise, or the slight tilt of her head.
"About?" she asks, gently.
"I— uh, I mean, it's kind of personal," he says, uncomfortably.
"I see," Karin says. She sips her coffee, and continues looking at him. "How do you know him?"
"We used to be friends," Naruto says. He is not sure what the right term is. Acquaintances, maybe? No, that's not right. Friends isn't right, either. But what else could he say?
"Hmm," Karin hums, and the sound is thoughtful.
"My son is dating his daughter," he blurts out, suddenly.
Karin blinks.
"Oh," she says. "So you're the father of Boruto, right?"
"Yeah," Naruto says, a little surprised. "Do you know my son?"
"Only by name," she says, and there is a slight smile on her face. "Sasuke's mentioned him."
"Right," Naruto says.
Karin looks at him. He feels exposed, as though she can see right through him, as though all his thoughts and feelings are written on his skin.
"And you wanted to talk to Sasuke about his daughter?" she asks.
"No," Naruto says, slowly. "Not exactly."
"Ah," Karin says. Her eyes are still boring into him, and her face is impassive. "So it's personal, then."
"Yeah," Naruto admits, and his voice is a whisper.
"I see," Karin repeats.
Naruto is quiet, and the silence stretches on.
"I'll tell you what, Mr. Uzumaki," Karin says. She sets her cup down on the table, and stands up. "I am not allowed to tell you where Sasuke is, or when he'll be back. But, I think you need a drink."
"What?" Naruto asks, surprised.
"A drink," Karin says, and her smile is warm. "You need a drink. Specifically, one from a bar called Chidori. It's just down the street."
"Chidori?"
"Yes," Karin says. She is already moving towards the door. "Trust me, you won't be able to miss it. Try the Lightning Martini. Sasuke likes that one."
Naruto is speechless.
"And I'd hurry, if I were you," Karin says.
Naruto looks up at her, and their eyes meet. There is something akin to a smile playing around her lips.
"You should go now, Mr. Uzumaki," she says.
-
Naruto finds the place easily. It is a cozy bar, tucked away on a quiet street, with dim lighting and plush leather seats. There is a sign outside, and he reads it carefully, double checking the name.
He's still confused about Karin's instructions, and what she'd meant. Had she meant for him to find Sasuke, at the bar? If so, why didn't she just give him his cell number? Or maybe the bar was frequented by him and his colleagues, and she'd figured Naruto could talk to him here, in a safe, neutral space. Maybe Sasuke was there, right now, sitting a few tables away.
Maybe this was his chance.
Naruto holds his breath, and pushes open the door.
The place is empty, save for a few patrons scattered here and there. He scans the room, but doesn't recognize anyone. He takes a seat at the bar, and orders a beer. His nerves are frayed, and he's not sure what's happening, or what he's doing.
The bartender slides a beer towards him, and he sips it slowly, the bubbles fizzing on his tongue. The music is a soft murmur, and the light is dim. He checks his watch, and wonders if he should wait, for a while. Maybe Karin had just been referring to the atmosphere, and not Sasuke.
Maybe he was being foolish.
Naruto takes a long swallow of beer.
It's cool and crisp, and slides down his throat easily.
His thoughts are jumbled, and he's not sure what's real and what's not. Is his son's revelation even real? Is it just a delusion? Is Sasuke really single? If he is, does that mean anything, to the two of them? Would Naruto even have a chance? Would it even matter?
Naruto closes his eyes.
What was he doing, here?
It's a stupid idea, a foolish hope. He should go home. Forget all of this. Stop thinking about Sasuke. Let go, and move on.
"A lightning martini," a familiar voice says, and Naruto nearly falls off his chair.
He turns around, his heart racing.
"Sasuke," he breathes, and the sight of the other man knocks the breath out of him.
The dark-haired man is sitting a few seats away, and the bartender is sliding a glass towards him. His suit is immaculate, and he is watching Naruto, his gaze steady.
"What are you doing here?" Sasuke asks. "How'd you know about this place?"
"Your, uh, assistant," Naruto replies.
"Karin?"
"Yeah."
"Hmm," Sasuke hums, and there is a frown on his face.
He studies Naruto, his gaze intense.
"What are you doing here?" he repeats, after a moment.
Naruto's cheeks are warm.
"I'm not sure," he says, and his voice is a hoarse whisper.
Sasuke's expression is unreadable.
"Naruto," he says, and his voice is low. "Meeting because of the kids is one thing, but coming to my office, and then a bar is another."
"I know," Naruto says.
"So why are you here?"
The question hangs in the air, suspended.
"Because I wanted to see you," Naruto admits, softly. "I had to."
Sasuke is motionless, and silent.
"When I came home today, Boruto was waiting for me. Apparently he'd talked to Sarada. He— He told me he hated me. For lying to his mom. For putting her through all that, back then. He said I didn't deserve her forgiveness."
Sasuke still doesn't say anything, but he nods at the bartender, and points to Naruto's half-finished beer. Naruto blinks up at the other man.
"Thought you might want something stronger," Sasuke says, as the bartender places a fresh glass in front of him.
Naruto's lips twitch, and his fingers wrap around the new glass. The liquid is a bright, clear blue, and he takes a sip. The alcohol burns on the way down, and his heart is thudding in his chest.
"Whoa," he says, a little shakily. "That's like a shot of lightning."
Sasuke hums.
"That's the idea," he says.
There is a faint smile on his face, and the expression makes Naruto's pulse race. He swallows, and tries to focus.
Instead he takes another sip, lets the burn go down, and watches the small tell in Sasuke's hands. The other man drinks more slowly than Naruto expects. He keeps his eyes on the rim of the glass, on the way the light catches the liquid.
"You look tired," Sasuke says suddenly. The remark is almost businesslike, but there is a soft thread under it, the faintest note of observation. "You have been working?"
"Yeah," Naruto admits. "Tons of paperwork. Kids. Things." He smiles and it is forced, then gone. "I wanted to come and... I do not know. See how you are."
Sasuke stares at him for a long moment. There is a war in his face between caution and something older, something that does not obey either of them. Finally, he sets his glass down and meets Naruto's eyes.
"I am fine," he says. The words are careful and cold. "For what it is worth."
Naruto wants to challenge him. Wants to tell him that he can see through the practiced calm. But he holds back. He has learned that some hurts are not opened on a schedule. He reasons that proximity might be enough for tonight. That is small consolation, but it is something.
"Anyway," he continues, his voice low. "Boruto was mad at me. And I was just standing there, feeling like an idiot. Because I knew he was right. That I'd done something unforgivable. And that, if the roles were reversed, I'd hate myself, too."
"That bad, huh?" Sasuke murmurs.
"Yeah," Naruto sighs. He takes a longer swallow, and the drink burns its way down his throat. He feels it spread, slowly, like fire. "So you told Sarada yourself?"
Sasuke's lips quirk, slightly.
"I did," he says. "She figured it out, at the clinic. We talked."
"How'd she take it?"
"Better than I deserved," Sasuke says flatly.
Naruto winces.
"Yeah. Guess so."
Silence settles between them. Naruto wonders how many drinks it'll take before he loses his nerve completely. Before he blurts out what he really wants to say.
Their glasses are empty, and they order another round.
"Why'd you come here?" Sasuke asks, again, and though his voice is calm, there's an edge beneath it.
"I don't know," Naruto confesses, his face flushing. "But it's nice to see you."
Sasuke studies him, and the expression in his eyes is inscrutable.
"Are you drunk, Naruto?"
"Not yet," he mumbles.
"Good," Sasuke says.
They are quiet, and the bartender refills their glasses.
"What would you do, if I said it's nice to see you, too?" Sasuke asks, suddenly.
Naruto freezes.
"Would you stay, and have another drink with me?"
Sasuke is a storm, unpredictable in ways Naruto cannot begin to fathom. He is a hurricane, and the calm before the storm, and a crack of thunder. He is a force of nature, and the earth quakes, and the seas turn, and the air trembles, under the power of his gaze.
Naruto swallows, hard.
"Yes," he whispers.
Sasuke inclines his head, but doesn't smile. The bartender returns with fresh glasses, and they drink.
Naruto watches the way Sasuke's throat moves, as he sips his drink.
What exactly are they doing?
Why isn't Sasuke running away, like he'd done so many times before? Why is he sitting here, calmly drinking with Naruto, instead of pushing him away, like he'd always done? What's changed, and how is it different, this time around?
Naruto's thoughts are a jumbled mess, and he cannot think straight. He takes a long sip, and the drink is cool, and sweet, and smooth. It feels like a slow burn, as it spreads, and settles in his bones.
"Another round?" Sasuke asks, and Naruto nods.
He is not sure what he's doing. He is not sure where he's going, and what will happen, when the sun rises. All he knows is the look in Sasuke's eyes, and the way his body responds, instinctively.
Sasuke waves at the bartender, and two more glasses appear.
"You okay?" Sasuke asks.
"Not sure," Naruto admits, and he feels a little unsteady. "What about you?"
"I've been better," Sasuke says.
Naruto's head is fuzzy, and he can't tell if he's imagining the words, or if they're real.
"What are we doing, Sasuke?" he asks, and the words are slurred.
"Drinking. Obviously," Sasuke says, faintly amused.
"That's not what I mean."
"No?"
"No," Naruto mutters, frustrated.
"Then tell me."
"Why are you here? Why are you talking to me? I thought you didn't want to deal with me. You always push me away. You never let me in."
Sasuke's jaw tightens. "Let it go. You're drunk."
"So what?"
"So, I'm not having this conversation with you."
"Fine," Naruto huffs, finishing his drink.
"More?" Sasuke asks.
"Yes."
They sit in silence, the drinks warming their insides, their thoughts spinning. Naruto is not sure what to make of the entire thing, and his emotions are a tangle of confusion and anticipation, and fear.
"You okay?" Sasuke asks again.
"Yeah," Naruto says, and his voice is thick. "Just, why are we here?"
"I've spent the past days reflecting and trying to sort through some stuff," Sasuke says, and the words are measured, and careful. "Someone told me to face my demons, and stop running. That maybe there are things in the past I should let go of."
"Your demons, huh?"
"Yeah."
"Is it working?"
"Somewhat," Sasuke says, his smile rueful. "Still haven't faced my biggest one, though."
"Oh," Naruto breathes, and the alcohol is buzzing in his veins.
"But that's not something we should talk about, now," Sasuke continues.
"Okay," Naruto says.
"Another?" Sasuke asks, and he's pointing to their empty glasses.
"Please," Naruto says.